Dempsey and Makepeace 4:4, While The Cats Are Away
by xLaramiex
Summary: Dempsey has something to ask his partner.
1. PreTitles Sequence

_Hello there! Thought I should tell you that I'm taking haveunotthought's general timeline for the episodes (fanfiction[.]net/s/4725861/3/Two_Christmases_Dempsey_and_Makepeace if you want to read it), minus her version of series four, obviously. So for mine, 4.1: Robert Miller was late June 1987, 4.2 and 4.3: Dogged Determination was July-ish, and this can be August. One episode a month, which is the timeline she goes with, seems to work fairly well._

_Oh, and the general idea for this is from haveunotthought. I'll also be taking elements of Krato's suggestions. So thanks you two, if it wasn't for the pair of you, this wouldn't exist!_

_PS, I know nothing about the 80s, so if I get stuff wrong in my stories, just ignore it :P_

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He'd bought it months ago, but he hadn't yet got up the courage to tell her in case she turned him down. And of course, the longer he left it, the more chance there was of practical issues getting in he way, quite aside from the possibility that she wouldn't want to.

He kept telling himself that he was waiting for the right moment, but eventually he recognised that if he wanted the right moment, he would have to create it himself.

He waited until they were on their own, talking amiably as they waited for a snout to meet them. When there was a lull in the conversation, he sensed his opportunity and leapt in with both feet. "So, Harry, what you got planned for summer?"

"I thought I'd go and see my father for a couple of days, but apart from that, nothing really. What are you doing?"

He didn't know how to turn the question into an invitation, so he just ignored it. "You got a week, right, same as me?"

"Yes," Harry replied slowly, wondering where on earth he was going with this and suspecting an insult or gripe was on the way.

"Have you decided which week yet?" He wanted to make sure she could go before he asked outright; it seemed safer.

"No…" Harry watched him, utterly bemused.

"Well, uh, I got some tickets for a holiday next week. I meant to go with a friend from New York, only he can't go and I thought, maybe, you might wanna come?" His heart was pounding.

Harry searched his face, looking for…well, she wasn't sure. "Where is it?" she asked, to buy herself time.

"We decided to go for that classic British seaside holiday."

"Really?" She looked sceptical, _oh hell, why did she look sceptical? _"I wouldn't have thought Britain would be good enough for you." _Ah, so that was it._

"Sure it is," he said simply, wanting to hurry a definite answer. He held her eyes, waiting.

"Alright then," she responded at last, and Dempsey's face broke into a grin completely without any conscious thought from himself.

"Great," he said, pleased.

* * *

_I'm not really sure where they're going so I'm just sending them to a generic English beach. Also, the bit I keep telling you nothing about that I started writing this series for will definitely happen at the end of this episode! It's gonna be a complete anti-climax, it was just a scene I got in my head._


	2. Part 1

_I decided on a four day holiday; one day for each part. This is a much more relaxed episode/story.

* * *

_

Harry wasn't at all sure that she was doing the right thing in agreeing to go on holiday with Dempsey. The embarrassment had begun when she'd gone to see Spikings to book the four days off and he'd observed that they were the same days that Dempsey had off. He'd guessed that they were going away together, and Harry had explained about Dempsey's friend being unable to come.

She had to admit, though, she was rather looking forward to it. Her partner had refused to tell her anything about the holiday beyond the fact that it was at the seaside. She'd persuaded him to give Jack the number so he could get in touch with her, had packed clothes she hoped were chaste enough not to give Dempsey the wrong idea, and was now waiting in her hall for Dempsey to show up to collect her. He was late, but she'd rather expected that.

At last, she saw his car arrive through the window and picked up her suitcase. When she opened the door, he grinned widely at her.

"D'you know, for a minute there, I thought you might bail out," he said.

"Too much invested to back out now," Harry replied with a smile, closing the door after they had exited, him carrying her other case. "Oh, that reminds me, how much does this cost? I need to pay you back."

He threw her a sidelong look. "Nah, my friend's paying for it."

"But…"

"Don't worry about it, he feels guilty for leavin' it so long. Wouldn't accept your money if you tried."

"In that case I shall enjoy this trip all the more!" Harry declared, and Dempsey mirrored her smile as they climbed inside his car. He hoped this nauseous feeling wouldn't last long. He should probably have eaten a smaller breakfast, he thought. He didn't usually bother.

Dempsey watched Harry looking around her curiously. They'd arrived in a small seaside town made up of cottages painted in pastel colours, and Dempsey had driven around for ten minutes consulting a map and a list of hastily scrawled directions while swearing under his breath. Eventually, he'd pulled up in a gravel car-park which only accommodated 6 or 7 cars in front of a large, honey-coloured building. At the gate, they had driven past a sign: "Seaside B&B - Breathe the sea air in a home from home!"

Dempsey turned to Harry with a grin. "Ready, Princess?" he asked, feeling a thrill of excitement. They loaded themselves down with their luggage and Dempsey led Harry towards the B&B. Dempsey saw she looked confused when he headed away from the door and around the side of the building.

"The door's here," she told him, pausing uncertainly next to it and gesturing towards it with her case.

"We're not going in the door," he replied, turning to grin at her.

Harry narrowed her eyes at him but followed when he turned and continued on. "Are you trying to get me in a tent or something?" she asked, sounding suspicious.

Dempsey couldn't help but laugh. "Just wait!" He led her through a gate in the wall by the side of the building and punched in a code to open the box containing the key.

When he looked up, Harry was looking uncertainly over at the bungalow in the same honey-colour as the B&B. He tilted his head towards it. "That's where we're staying," he announced, watching her face for a reaction. The slight raise of her eyebrows, accompanied by a lifting of the corners of her mouth, told him she was pleased. Dempsey was relieved.

The two of them struggled over to the door with their luggage and Dempsey put down the cases he was carrying to unlock the door. Before Harry could cross the threshold he picked her up in a fireman's lift, making her shriek, and marched into the house.

"Dempsey! What _are _you doing?" Harry asked, laughing so much that her voice sounded breathy.

"It's bad luck to let a lady walk through the door in a new house!" he replied as he set her down, laughing along with her.

Harry stood, hands on hips, and tried to look disapproving. The curve of her lips gave her away, though. "That's only if you've just got married," she pointed out.

"We could always try that," he suggested with a smirk, going back for the luggage he'd abandoned on the doorstep. When he looked back Harry was shaking her head at him with a smile. She turned away and went to look around the house, taking in the large windows through which the sun was streaming, the cream sofa in the living room, the two double bedrooms and the glass-and-chrome bathroom. Dempsey followed her and watched her silently approve of it all with a barely perceptible nod of the head.

"Did you really book this for you and a friend?" she asked, after she had seen the whole of the house. She found it unlikely, somehow, that he would book such a place.

"Sure."

He met her gaze unwaveringly, but Harry still wasn't sure. Unless it had been a female friend…Maybe then he would book a place exactly like this. But she didn't really want to dwell on her partner's bedroom antics.

After a few moments looking between the two bedrooms, Harry went into the smaller one with the view of the sea and dumped her bags unceremoniously on the bed. "I claim this one," she announced with an air of _Don't argue with me, I want this room and I'm having it!_

Just to see what she would say, Dempsey put his own case next to hers and met her eyes. There was a challenge in his voice as he said, "Fine with me, Princess," and edged towards her.

Harry looked up at him playfully and it was only as he wrapped an arm around her waist that she protested. "Dempsey, I've got a boyfriend," she admonished.

_Not "Dempsey, stop it" or "Dempsey, I don't like it", but "I've got a boyfriend."_ Dempsey took heart from her choice of words and smiled at her. "Yeah," he agreed, putting his other arm around her.

Harry laughed nervously and put a hand on his chest to push him back. "Go away, you silly man," she told him gently.

Dempsey reluctantly obeyed, and went to settle himself into the next room.


	3. Part 2

_I've recently realised that I am very bad at varying sentence structure (especially the beginning of the sentence) so I'd appreciate it if you could keep an eye out for it over the next few stories and let me know how I'm getting on in trying to fix this._

_

* * *

_

Dempsey leapt out of bed the next morning and tore open the curtains to find…good old British rain. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. He wandered into the kitchen in his pyjamas to find Harry already dressed and sitting at the table clutching a cup of tea. "You're already up?" he said, surprised.

"There's no way I'm walking around in my dressing gown and pyjamas with you in the house. Besides, it's 9 o'clock already."

He stared at her incredulously. "But we're on holiday," he said, as though he was trying to teach an especially complex piece of astrophysics to an especially thick puppy.

"Exactly! Let's not miss it. I wanted to go to the beach," she added, looking wistfully out of the window.

"Yeah, I don't think that's really gonna work. We could walk around the town, though, they probably have, I dunno fish and chips and ice cream and tea shops, right?"

"Actually, yes. That's one stereotype that's completely right!" Harry told him with a laugh. "Come on, go and get dressed and we can go out."

He turned and began to walk back to his room. "Ah, I know you prefer me naked really, Harry!" he called back.

-:-

"Why did you bring an umbrella on a beach holiday?" Dempsey asked after Harry opened her black umbrella on the doorstep.

Harry just looked at him, then pointed up at the sky. "It's England."

"Well let me share," he said, pulling the umbrella over his head as well.

"Hey! If you wanted to be dry you should have brought your own umbrella."

"We're on a beach holiday! It's not my fault your country's messed up."

"It's not England's fault it's raining! And it's not my fault either and I don't see why I should get wet because you failed to think ahead."

They continued bickering, but not seriously, over the umbrella, during which time Dempsey became more and more soaked and Harry continued to refuse to let him share. Eventually, to Dempsey's relief, they found the promenade with its parallel main street. Dempsey wandered over to the edge of the concrete promenade and looked over the metal barrier.

"There ain't much beach. When d'you think the tide goes out?"

"I have no idea." Harry nodded politely at a old man and his wife who said hello to them.

Dempsey stared down for a moment longer, trying to see through the water to gauge the state of the beach. The advert had said "beautiful golden sandy beach"; but adverts always said that.

"What d'you think of the beach?" he asked.

"I think I can't see a thing, Dempsey, what do you think?"

"I think you should call me James more. Sounds like you're telling me off when you call me Dempsey."

"I usually am," she pointed out. They began to move away from the edge and made their way towards the row of shops facing the promenade. "Come on then _James_, let's go find a shop."

He grinned as he followed her.

Dempsey had been resigned to the rain pouring onto his head and trickling down his neck when Harry lifted the umbrella over his head. He turned to smile at her but she was looking away, towards the sea, so she didn't notice. He used the pretence of securing the umbrella's position over his head to wrap his fingers around her hand, which was holding the umbrella aloft. Harry seemed to be pretending not to notice. He had the sudden urge to press his lips to her fingers, just to see her reaction, but he didn't want to push her too far so he resisted the compulsion.

They'd reached a tourist shop which was still open in desperate hope of visitors on the rainy day. They entered and wandered around the shop together, pointing out various different items to one another.

The rest of the morning was filled with a handful of tourist shops and a brisk walk down the promenade after the rain had abated. As midday approached they agreed to have lunch, and a chip shop was found. While they ate their chips - Harry with a wooden fork, Dempsey with his fingers - they sat on a bench overlooking the sea, which, when a particularly large wave arrived, meant that they were both sprayed with salty water.

Finishing his fish and chips in record time, Dempsey turned his attention to Harry's. As he looked between her and her lunch, Harry could practically see the thoughts written in his face; so when he reached out to steal a chip she reacted immediately. After slapping his hand, causing him to withdraw quickly, she turned to him with a "don't mess with me" look on her face. "You've eaten your lunch," she said pointedly.

"Exactly, that's why I'm lookin' at yours."

"Dempsey, I am not giving you my chips."

"See, there you go, callin' me Dempsey when you're tellin' me off," he said, but the crinkles around his eyes told Harry he wasn't serious. "Go on, just gimme one."

"No."

He briefly dropped his eyes to the food in her lap so he could point out a small chip. "How 'bout that one?"

"Still no."

His eyes, which full of laughter, still fixed on her face, Dempsey pointed somewhere else at random. "That one?"

"No, James!" she insisted, laughing.

An amicable _impasse_ reigned for a few moments. Their mirth spilled over into their faces, causing them both to smile. At last, Dempsey broke the eye contact as though he was giving up; but the smirk remained on his face so Harry wasn't surprised when he tried (and succeeded) to steal a chip a bare twenty seconds later.

He grinned at her, unabashed, when Harry glared at him playfully, so she went back to eating - though she kept an eye on him! Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him watching her still with his lips curved into a small smile. His smiles came more from his eyes than from his mouth; she'd got to know his smile well over the last few years. And from their numerous arguments she'd discovered that all his anger revealed itself in the set of his jaw.

When she was full, she dumped her remaining few chips in their paper on his lap. "Here, you great dustbin."

Harry watched him with a mixture of amusement and disgust as he began attacking them with relish. "They're kinda cold," he complained after a moment. He picked one up to examine it. "And I don't know what you've got against salt but these chips would sure taste better with some on."

They passed the rest of the afternoon on the bench, under the cloudy sky. Luckily, it didn't rain again, but the weather remained overcast. When they became too cold to sit still, the two of them went for a wander around the town, and finally decided to return to the bungalow for dinner. Harry volunteered to make dinner with the food they bought on the way home (it was better than suffering Dempsey's cooking, she thought), and Dempsey sat at the kitchen table reading a newspaper.

Waiting for the soup to cook, she got a bit bored. "I'm just going to go and get my necklace," she said, deciding to wear it over dinner. She walked to her bedroom to pick up her necklace, which she had left on the dressing table.

Where had it gone? "James, did you move my necklace?" she called.

"Nope," came his voice.

She searched through all the drawers and on all of the surfaces, and even under the bed. Eventually she gave up on that room and went back into the kitchen to search through the drawers in there, even though she knew that it was not there. "My father got me that necklace." She was starting to feel panicked now, wondering where on earth it had gone. "And now the soup's boiling over," she realised, rushing over to the hob to turn the heat down.

It was only after dinner, when Dempsey came into her room with a cup of tea and pointed out how cold it was, that she realised her window had been opened wide since they'd been out.


	4. Part 3

_This right here is one of my favourite chapters I've ever written =)_

_Sunscreen by suggestion of Krato!_

-:-

After examination of her window, they concluded that somebody had stolen Harry's necklace; there were scuff marks on the windowsill and fingerprints on the glass. Dempsey was all for investigating, but Harry firmly refused on the grounds that they were supposed to be on holiday; so before they left the house the next morning she rang the police. To her annoyance, they replied that they were very busy, and would be round the next day. "We go home tomorrow," she said irritably. "What's the point in turning up when we might not even be here?" The man on the phone stayed calm and politely told her that he was sorry, but there was no other option.

When Harry had put the phone down, she hastened to get ready to go to the beach. The morning had brought bright sunshine which warmed her to her marrow, so she found the sunscreen she had brought for just this occasion. She put it on in the living room, because some unacknowledged part of her wanted an excuse for him to touch her…and she planned to let that happen. Though of course, entirely unintentionally. Well, maybe only partly unintentionally. Harry felt confused by her own feelings. It was as though they were working together in an attempt to humiliate her. She dismissed that thought as foolishness, but she couldn't help but feel that they were going to lead her into trouble.

As she expected, she was rubbing sunscreen into her left arm when Dempsey came into the living room to see if she was ready.

"You missed a bit," he said, running a finger up her back; plenty of it was revealed in the black swimming costume she wore for the beach.

She hesitated only slightly before, in one movement, she turned and pressed the bottle into his hand.

Dempsey span her around without a word and squeezed some sunscreen lotion into his hand. There was an agonising pause which felt like hours but could only have been seconds, and then the cold lotion, followed immediately by his fingertips, touched her back. Both made her shiver, for different reasons. His fingers travelled slowly up her back to the top of her neck, by which time there was no sunscreen left on his fingertips and the movement finished as a caress.

Harry was beginning to regret her provocation because she wasn't sure how long she could stand and let him touch her without something happening that she would later regret. Something that she would have started.

And all the time, his fingers travelled slowly across her skin as though he was mapping an undiscovered territory; almost - dare she imagine? - as though he wanted to remember it.

-:-

Harry was carrying a large beach towel and a book, the corners of which kept catching in the sea-coloured, translucent sarong she wore over her black swimming costume. Dempsey had given a long, low whistle when he saw her that morning, which had made her smile shyly. Harry loved it when he complimented her, though she would never have admitted it. Dempsey was wearing a pair of dark blue shorts and a red polo shirt, and Harry thought that it was strange to see him out of a suit. She was quite certain, however, that his gun was jammed somewhere in the waistband of his shorts.

By unspoken consent, they settled themselves in a quiet spot on the beach not too far from the sea. Propped up on his elbows, Dempsey lay back and looked around at the people on the beach while Harry sat up and opened her book. After about five minutes of this, Dempsey felt compelled to break the silence.

"Are you gonna do that all day?"

"Do what all day?" she asked without looking up.

"Just sit there doin' nothin'."

"I'm not doing nothing, I'm reading a book and relaxing."

"Well it's very annoying!" he snapped.

There was such a bite to his words that Harry put her book on the towel and asked: "What do you want to do, then?"

"You know what I want to do, Harry," he replied with a wicked grin.

"I'm not sure that's legal on a beach," she replied coolly. "It's a public place."

Feigning a look of shocked innocence, Dempsey said: "I don't know what you're thinkin' of, Lady Harriet, I was just gonna suggest goin' down to the sea."

He looked so funny that Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"You got a filthy mind," he told her, poking her in the side which made her flinch away. An evil smile took over his face and he pretended to poke her a few more times; though he never touched her, Harry still (to her annoyance and embarrassment) could not stop herself from recoiling away. "Come on, let's go to the sea," Dempsey urged, leaping up and grabbing Harry by the hand to drag her with him.

Caught off guard, Harry stumbled after him, laughing. "You're crazy!" she cried when she had recovered her balance. The only reply she received was a grin. Still holding hands, they sprinted towards the ocean, the wind blowing into their faces and lifting Harry's hair away from her face. They ran like their lives depended on it, chuckling giddily with the little breath they had spare.

When they reached the ocean they kept running, kicking up an almighty splash in the shallow water. Dempsey stopped running and released her hand in order to bend down and spray her with water, and soon they had fallen into a wild water fight. They splattered each other without mercy, and soon a group of children joined them in filling the air with white spray and hilarious laughter.

Dempsey paused in soaking a small boy with shocking red hair to sneak a look at Harry. She was being pushed into the water by a pair of girls who looked like sisters, and all of them were shrieking with laughter. Never had he seen her lose her inhibitions so completely. She looked beautiful. She looked free; free from the usual constraints she set upon herself.

The moment was broken when the red-headed boy leapt onto his back in an attempt to unbalance him, and he was forced to turn his attention to not falling over.

Eventually, they managed to extricate themselves from the chaos they had caused. Though they were soaked from head to foot, their smiles never left their faces as they sauntered back to their place on the sand.

"Well, James, that was certainly an interesting experience," she said, a smile in her voice as well as shining in her eyes.

Dempsey flopped down on the blanket next to her. "Sure was."

"Don't drip on my book," she said, pushing him over and away from the book. To Dempsey's frustration, Harry dried her hands awkwardly on the beach towel, picked up the book and turned her body half away from him to start reading again. She was unaware of his gaze as he appraised her body, shown off through the sarong which had become clingy and almost transparent because of its soaking. There was a droplet of seawater sitting on her bare shoulder, which was slightly pink. That morning, she had let him touch that shoulder. Had there been a point to that sentence? If there had, he'd forgotten it. All he could think was, _She let me touch her._ And now he wanted nothing more than to trace the shape of her shoulder with his fingers, press his lips to her burning skin…

He needed to distract himself. "Wanna get an ice cream?"

-:-

Dempsey soon realised that he hadn't picked the best diversion technique. He was captivated by the way Harry was eating her fudge ice cream. He was so distracted that he barely noticed when his own ice cream began dripping over his fingers, falling onto the floor of the promenade on which they had chosen to eat because it had the best view of the sand and the sea. Harry had been looking out over the ocean, but when she turned to say something she realised he was staring. Knowing full well why, Harry held his gaze as she took another lick of her ice cream. She placed a hand on his shoulder to pull him down to her level, and paused a moment with her lips next to his ear. The position was intimate and took Dempsey's breath away.

Then she whispered sharply: "Stop staring, you pervert."

Dempsey leapt back as though she had administered an electric shock, but when he saw the mischievous way she was looking at him over the top of the cone, he knew she couldn't be serious. Or if she was, she was incapable of not flirting with him.

Which made it all the more frustrating that, had he tried flirting with her, she'd have shot him gently through the heart. Hmm. What was a guy to do?

-:-

That evening, Harry sat close to Dempsey on the sofa. He'd had his arm around her for half an hour or more now, and Harry was loathe to move.

They both jumped as a harsh ringing sound filled the air, and Dempsey cursed under his breath. "That'll be your lover-boy," he muttered darkly.

Harry cuffed him lightly on the back of the head as she got up, and he watched her walk over to the phone with a frown forming between his eyes.

"Hello?…Oh, hello Jack…I don't sound surprised!…Yes, I remember you said you'd call…" She looked around to smile at Dempsey - who avoided her gaze - as she said: "Yes, we're having a wonderful time…We went to the beach…Yes…So how are Sam and Sam?…Mm-hm…Right…I'll see you tomorrow, then…About half-past eight, probably, sometime in the evening, anyway…Yes…Thank you…I will…Bye."

"That was Jack," Harry said as she returned to the living room.

Dempsey tried to pretend he hadn't been listening to her conversation. "Oh, right. What'd he say?"

"Am I having a nice time, what have we been doing. That sort of thing." She settled herself next to him on the sofa again, a little further away. Somehow it didn't feel right to be too close to him, now that she'd been reminded of Jack.

"Nice." Silence, just a touch awkward, fell over them. "Well, I guess I'm off to bed. See you t'morrow, Harry."

"Goodnight," she replied, but decided to remain up a little longer. She thought of the phone call she had received from Jack. He'd called exactly when he had promised, had said all the right things, and put the phone down when she had implied an end to the conversation. Dempsey would have forgotten to call, insult her when he did, and refuse to put the phone down until she was forced to be rude. But Jack, he was reliable, dependable.

She imagined Jack being there with her now, walking into the room, sitting down beside her. He'd wrap an arm around her waist and smile, and he'd say, "I've missed you, Harry." Harry smiled. She liked thinking of Jack.

So why, she wondered with a jolt, had he called her Harry, not Harriet?

And why did he have an American accent?


	5. Part 4

_Sorry for the delay - this was supposed to be up last night but I was busy so I forgot. Hopefully there'll be a redeeming factor here ;)_

-:-

Just when Harry was considering marching into Dempsey's room and pouring a cup of cold water on his head to wake him up, she heard the shower running, and ten minutes later a fully-dressed Dempsey, still with damp hair, strolled into the living room.

"Mornin' Princess," he said cheerfully. "What a pretty sight you are to wake up to." Harry blinked at him, surprised. He winked and went into the kitchen, where he ambled about fixing toast. She sipped her tea as she waited for him to return. When he did, he continued the line of conversation. "In fact I'd like to wake up to you every day. 'Course, we'd never really get up, just sit there starin' at each other and maybe eat each other for breakfast -" _crunch_; he took a bite of the toast.

Harry watched him eating, feeling unsettled. Her dreams last night had been so full of fragmented mornings and broken nights with him that she wasn't sure where they ended and this began.

"What are we doin' today?" he asked through a mouthful of toast.

"The police will be here in half an hour or so. We need to be here to let them in but they won't be long. What do you want to do?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he replied cheekily.

Harry sighed. "Do shut up."

An attack of confusion and an aching guilt was establishing itself as an irritable mood, but if she tried to remind herself that she was on holiday and should relax that just made her more tense because it reminded her that she was on holiday with Dempsey and couldn't relax because she felt awful. She'd flirted with him a lot yesterday, she admitted this to herself now. And she shouldn't have; she was with Jack. But why had she thought of him only once in the last few days? Even then the fantasy him had been tainted with elements of her partner.

Had she looked up, she would have seen Dempsey watching her with a disappointed expression. Even if she had looked up, she would not have known that he was disappointed because he had hoped that he was getting her to relax, but had woken up to find that the ice queen had returned. He couldn't keep up with her moods: one minute she was laughing and flirting with him shamelessly, and the next she was cold and distant. He was starting to wonder, despite her semi-confession of how important he was to her, if he should give up on ever having anything other than friendship with Harriet Makepeace.

-:-

"Do you think they'll find anything from the fingerprints?" Harry asked Dempsey after they'd been lying side-by-side on the towel for a while.

"Probably not. Anyone likely to be on record would have worn gloves to open the window, it's a rookie mistake. No criminal with half a brain goes near a window without gloves on."

"So I'll probably never get my necklace back," Harry lamented. "It's not worth much, but…"

"What?" Dempsey asked gently, turning his head to look at her face in profile. Her eyes were closed against the sun. Dempsey wondered if this was how she looked in bed.

"My father bought it for my mother soon after they met. So it's special."

Dempsey didn't know what to say, so he just watched her. After a moment she opened her eyes to look at him. He tried to look sympathetic, which was hard when he knew he couldn't understand. His own mother was alive and well and telling him off for not visiting her back in America. "D'you miss her?" he said at last.

"Yes. But I don't remember her very well. I often imagine her and father when they first met, young and hopeful and stupidly naïve."

"Harry -" He stopped.

"What?"

"I dunno," he said truthfully. He'd wanted to say something comforting, but he didn't know what. It was several minutes before either of them moved their eyes away from the other.

"I guess we should go soon," Dempsey said regretfully after a while. "We gotta pack and stuff."

Harry gave a long sigh. "Yes. I suppose you're right."

They gathered up their things and, after a lingering last look at the sea, started back to the bungalow. On a street corner stood two young girls, about 7 and 9 years old, hunched over something that the older one was holding. Their body language was conspiratorial.

"Ain't that the two kids from yesterday?" Dempsey said, nodding at them.

"The ones who tried to drown me?" Harry replied dryly. "I think it is. Molly and Sophie, isn't it?"

Harry and Dempsey caught a few words of their conversation: "No, mine!" the younger girl was insisting. "I went in through the window."

They were immediately suspicious, and approached the two girls. "Hey, kids, what you got there?" Dempsey asked.

The girls looked up at them with wide eyes; it was clear from their expressions that they were guilty about something, even without the eldest holding her hands behind her back.

"Are you going to show us?" Harry suggested gently.

The girls muttered to each other and snatched at something between them, then the younger one shyly held up - "My necklace! Where did you get that, Molly?" Harry felt shaky with relief, so happy to have found the special piece of jewellery.

"Found it."

"No, you stole it, you little worms."

"James -" Harry held out a hand to stop him getting angry. "That's my necklace, girls. Where did you get it?"

The girls looked sheepish, staring down at their shuffling feet. "It's pretty," Sophie said by way of explanation.

"You shouldn't take things that don't belong to you, should you?"

They shook their heads. Molly held up the necklace without a word and Harry took it back, her heart feeling a hundred times lighter.

"Thank you, Molly. Now I love this necklace, but if you promise me you won't take other people's things, I won't tell the police how naughty you've been."

"Sorry," they chorused.

"Now scram," Dempsey ordered in a threatening voice, and the girls ran as fast as they could in the other direction.

Harry laughed with relief and Dempsey turned to her with a grin. "You got it back! Now ain't that weird?"

"It's wonderful," Harry said, close to tears. She put the necklace on, fumbling with the clasp at the back of her neck.

Dempsey picked up the pendant hanging on the silver chain to look at it; it was a small silver heart. "That's real nice. You'll have to tell the police you got it back. Come on then, Princess," he added, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go home."

-:-

It was dark by the time Harry and Dempsey pulled up outside Harry's house. Dempsey got out of the car to help Harry carry her luggage inside; when Harry stepped out it was to find Jack waiting on the pavement holding a bunch of pink flowers.

"Hello, Harriet," he said warmly, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hello," she replied, feeling hot and tired and deflated after the long journey.

"I thought I'd come and surprise you when you got back," Jack said, following her towards her house. As he spoke, he glanced at Dempsey who was scowling at the floor. All three traipsed through Harry's door and Harry and Dempsey put her bags into the living room. Jack gave Harry the flowers he'd been holding with a smile. His eyes kept flickering towards Dempsey as Harry accepted the flowers, kissed him on the lips, and went into the kitchen to put them into a vase.

Dempsey and Jack were left in an awkward silence until Harry returned, yawning hugely. "Last orders at the bar. I feel as though I could sleep for a week." She followed them out of the house and down her steps.

"I'll call you in a few days," Jack promised Harry.

"See you soon," she replied. She put her arms around his neck to kiss him - Dempsey watched them with an expression that suggested he could smell something foul - and Jack gave Harry a genuine smile.

"'Bye," he said, and kissed her again.

Harry giggled. "'Bye, Jack," she said pointedly, and he grinned. Then he backed off, waved, and walked away. Immediately, Dempsey slung an arm around Harry's shoulders in a casually possessive motion.

"Thank you for a wonderful holiday, James," she said, looking up at him sideways.

"No, thank you," he countered. "I had a great time, Princess."

Then he did something which Harry would spend a large amount of time replaying and dissecting.

He turned and kissed her full on the mouth. Their lips touched for a scant second but Harry felt as though an bolt of lightning jolted through her. It seemed to freeze her, freeze time, and for a moment she had never felt so alive.

Then it was over, and he removed his arm from her shoulders.

"James?" she said quietly, feeling as though a solid floor she hadn't previously been aware of had suddenly disappeared, leaving an abyss of dark swirling colours beneath her feet. What was he doing? And _why_?

He gave a laugh which seemed higher than usual. "Well lover-boy certainly seemed to be enjoyin' himself, I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about!" They regarded each other nervously. "Well, bye, Harry. I'll see you t'morrow." He hurried into his car and sped away with a screech of wheels, leaving Harry alone with the unnerving realisation that she enjoyed kissing her partner far more than she enjoyed kissing her boyfriend.

"James…" she sighed into the night. "I think I've fallen for you."


End file.
